The Bad

A couple weeks after Miss Bliss' arrival, our favorite ice cream shop was closing it's doors for the season. Of course, we had to make a trip one last time! I had just fed Sophia, the diaper bag was ready, everyone had their shoes and coats on to load up, and I was feeling miserable. What was this? It felt like bad gas or something. I wondered if my body and organs were just readjusting after childbirth but, OH MY GOSH. And that quickly, I was on the floor, trying any position to find relief from this pain. I couldn't describe it to my worried husband by my side. With the kids all anxious to go, he was trying to get me to respond...Do we go get ice cream? What's wrong? Do we need to go to the hospital instead? I laid there for 15 minutes or so. And as quickly as the pain came, it was gone. And, it quickly became an afterthought. Off to ice cream we went!

November 19, 4:30pm ...Lili informs Dad, Nana and I that she has a concert THAT VERY NIGHT and she needs to be there at 6 p.m. We all snap into action to make that happen! A half an hour into it, the pain returns. There is no warning. No preparing for this. And it hurts to touch the right side of my abdomen. What is going on inside of me? I push through. Praying for the pain to subside. I try to sit through Lili's concert, I try to stand through Lili's concert, nothing is helping. I'm getting anxious about this. What is going on? My dear, concerned mother tells my sister what is going on. She calls and says, "It sounds like your gallbladder, sis." And she is able to describe the exact pain I am having. Like someone is squeezing me right under my ribs and it goes all the way around my back. Yes! That's it! Sister had her gallbladder out in 2008, so she knows what I'm going through. She advises me to stay away from sugar and carbs. (WHAT?!! What am I supposed to eat then?!) She empathizes that yes, it sucks, but we agree that the attacks are worse than a diet change. I make an appointment with my doctor as soon as possible.

My doctor feels around my abdomen, I clench and grimace as she gets closer to my right side. She agrees that I need an ultrasound to confirm the diagnosis:: Gall stones. My ultrasound is scheduled for the Tuesday before Thanksgiving.

The ultrasound tech is very nice. Pushes around a lot, but very kind to make sure I am still comfortable. He takes a bajillion pictures. I ask him what he sees. He gives me a rehearsed answer.."The doctors prefer we not tell the patients what we see." I razz him..."But you see something, right?" He responds with..."I do a lot of ultrasounds. I know what I'm looking at. And I know what I see." I keep razzing him..."So do I have a few stones?" He kindly responds..."I could get in trouble for responding. I'm sorry." Dang it. He's good. I head home and wait for my doctor to call me.

She is quick to respond before Thanksgiving, thankfully! I just want to know what's going on. She confirms what she thought before and what the ultrasound shows... Gall stones. But she is unsure if it's a giant mass of several gall stones or one big giant one. She tells me that it's taking up most of my gall bladder and that she would refer me to a surgeon right away. She advises that I could continue to live with attacks, but eventually, that mass will irritate my gall bladder too much and cause too much pain to live with.

Hubs agrees- that thing has got to come out! The surgeon's office calls and schedules a consultation. We talk with the surgeon, he reviews the scans, he doesn't question the diagnosis at all. It's pretty obvious. He goes over all of the risks of the actual procedure with me. He says that it could be a bunch of little stones, in which case the laparoscopy procedure will work just fine. But if it's one big one, I might wake up with a bigger laceration as they needed a bigger space to remove the organ. Well, yeah, that makes sense. Let's just get this thing out, and before the end of the year....We've already met our deductible with childbirth.

Surgery is scheduled for December 18th. Perfect. Before the end of the year, and I should have no problem healing my body before Christmas. Let's do this! I continue to have attacks here and there. I continue to watch my diet as much as possible. My shortest attack was the first one, at 15 minutes. My longest attack lasted seven hours. Yes, SEVEN HOURS. The way my surgeon explained an attack is that the gall stone(s) are rolling around in there and then they get sucked over the top of the bile duct tube and my body is trying so hard to make it pass through but it just can't. So that's where the pain comes from. All that effort to push this stuck stone through the tube. And, if it IS one giant stone, there is NO WAY it will fit!

December 17th...No eating after 8 pm. Got it. I'm starting to get nervous. I mean, it's surgery. Any surgery is nerve-racking. Add in the fact that I have a 6 week old that hasn't taken a bottle yet and I'm nervous.

December 18th...Girls are at school, Drake is at home with Nana and Sophia is with us at

the hospital. We have an elaborate plan to feed her before they take me back. That way, if she refuses the bottle, at least he could maybe hold her off until I'm out of surgery, and then I can try to give it to her. I know with anesthesia and such, I'll need to pump and dump for awhile, so she has to take a bottle. Lord please, she has to take that bottle. The nurse gets me all set up. IV in place. I talk to the surgeon, the anesthesiologist...All is well. We are ready. I tear up as I kiss my tiny babe and husband goodbye. You read about simple procedures going wrong and mama bleeds out on the table and the last thing she said to her husband was "I think you should shave" or something ridiculous. I know, I know, "Rachel, don't think like that! Why would you think that?!" I see it in Hubs' eyes- you'll be fine. And I'll keep saying it til you believe it. I give Soph another kiss. Please take your bottle, baby. I'll be back soon. I walk back to the operating room, climb up on the table, the nurse takes my glasses, I'm anxious, for sure. The anesthesiologist is talking about the glory days at Iowa State back in the 80s...and then I'm out. Just like that.

I remember waking up with an oxygen tube in my nose and seeing a wall and a screen. Ow. Then it comes out my mouth..."Ow". The nurse turns, "Oh you're awake. I know it hurts. Let's get you something for the pain." I ask- "How did it go? Am I doing ok?" The nurse responds- "Everything went well. And your stats are looking good." I hear another patient being rolled in. She's just waking up and she is losing it over how much pain she is in. Yikes, I think, I wonder what procedure she had done. I now understand why they have the beds facing the walls. My throat is so dry. I later realize it's from the tube that was down my throat. As soon as I'm fully awake, they wheel me to another recovery area. One where my hubs and baby can come see me. We arrive at the "room"...an area with a recliner, a table and a curtain as the door. They park the bed and advise me to use my arms to pull myself up and get into the chair. I give the nurse a look. You expect me to move myself from here to there. I have four lacerations in my abdomen and I'm supposed to get from this reclined position to that chair on my own. Lord, help me. It hurts, but I make it to the chair. They ask

if I'm ready to eat some toast, I ask for my husband and daughter. Both arrive in a timely manner. I drink my Sierra Mist while Hubs holds Sophia close to me. Sierra Mist was my favorite drink...it reminded me of when Drake was born. The girls brought me a lot of Sierra Mist when they visited. Now, it leaves a bad taste in my brain. I eat my toast, drink my soda. Hubs and I talk about how it went.

While I was getting stitched up, the surgeon reported to Hubs that it went very well. He said my gall bladder was pretty sick but he got in and out in 20 minutes. And, Hubs tells me that Sophia drank her bottle like a champ! It seems like the day went flawlessly and now I just needed to focus on healing from surgery.

A quick stop at Target for some pain management and we are headed home. To heal. To

rest. To bounce back. At least that's the plan...

The Good

Christmas weekend marked the third trip to the hospital for myself in the past 8 weeks. These three visits gave me a lot to think about and write about, and I will be using my blog to work through some of the emotional/mental struggles I have with the past few weeks. These posts will serve as a journal for me. I shall name these hospital visits... The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.

The Good

Sweet Sophia Bliss made her entrance into the world precisely when she was ready: October 30th, her due date. I had my 40 week appointment that morning at 10. I had never made a 40 week appointment in my life and was feeling equal parts proud of my body and impatiently awaiting my sweet daughter's arrival. I remember waking up that morning before the sun and making a note on my phone that reads... "40 weeks! My body aches, but my heart is content with you tucked so close to it. See you soon, baby."

Nana had come to stay with us for awhile. We were all eager for the baby to come, and honestly shocked that she hadn't come yet. I don't know how long we decided Nana would stay, but I have a feeling she wasn't leaving until baby came.

Hubs and I headed to our appointment. Both of us anxious to hear that I had dilated more, or that any progress was happening! The doctor came in and we chatted about how today was my due date and if I had ever been pregnant that long. I laughed, anxiously, impatiently. She got down to business and checked everything out. Sister measured at 41 weeks, I believe. My blood pressure was good. Her heart rate was good. Doc went to check inside and reported that I was still a 3. At which point a little piece of me sighed in disappointment. Then she goes, "Oh wow. Your water bag is right there. Like, RIGHT here. Do you want me to strip your membranes for you?" Yes, please yes. After that, she came up slowly and looked at me funny. She said, "Do you feel wet?" Yes, but I assume it's just from the gel you used. "Well, I think I just broke your water when I did that. I've never done that before." WHAT?! Seriously?! "Yeah, why don't you hang out here, walk around a little bit, here's a pad. And then I can check again in a little bit." !!!!!!!!!!!! Ok!


Two days before Baby Sisser's birth day

Doctor exits the room. Hubs and I look at each other. I'm smiling so big it hurts! He is still holding back excitement. We have had a false labor alarm this pregnancy, so he is just not going to get excited until I'm crowning, I think. I get dressed, walk around the little exam room, chat with hubby about what an exciting day this might turn out to be and 7-10 minutes later, I feel a gush! A GUSH! Exactly what every 40 week pregnant mama wants to feel! The doctor comes back, she offers to check to see if the water bag was deflated and I said, yes please, we want to be sure this time. No more false alarms! It doesn't take long for her to confirm that we are indeed having a baby soon. Thank you, Jesus.

We are advised to go home, eat something, get our things and head to the hospital where they will be ready for us. We arrive home to all of our kiddos anxiously awaiting any news. I was thankful Nana was there, especially since the girls did not have school this day. This day also happened to be Liliana's half birthday. When we walked through the door, I reported I was still at a 3 (not a lie) and that baby was good (also, not a lie). Then I looked at Lil, grabbed her sweet face and said, "Happy half birthday. Dad and I got you something. We decided to have baby sister today." Chaos, confusion, excitement and explanation.. Mama's water broke and we are going in! That was our last moment as a family of five.

Bags? Check. Birthing ball? Check. Snack? Check. Let's go! We are all smiles and excitement heading downtown to meet our precious baby girl. Hubs calls his boss to report the good news and to start his vacation time. I twiddle my thumbs, eat my snack and mentally prepare for my epidural-free birth. We arrive at the hospital and enter the parking garage to find a spot. I'm talking a mile a minute, so excited for what's about to happen! Then I realize we are stopped and this guy in front of us is honking at us to back up so he can have the spot he just passed. Well, we would, but there are 2 cars behind us that aren't moving either. Next thing I know, we are rammed into by this guy and then he takes off. Yes, I'm in labor at the hospital and we get involved in a hit and run. Unbelievable! The drivers behind us both get out and talk to hubs, give him information to contact them if he needs witnesses. Our van is dead in the water. The front end is smashed in and the radiator is smoking. Good thing we have no where else to be right now! My heart is racing, but we are ok. No one is injured. One of the drivers comes back to let us know that the guy that hit us is parked on the floor above us. Seriously? Hubs takes off running as I shout-- Don't do anything stupid!! He comes back with pictures and proof that he hit us. That driver was no where to be found but we have enough for the police. C'mon, babe, let's go have this baby.

We are all checked in, settling in our room, I have my flattering hospital gown on and we are

all hooked up, checking baby sister out. It's about noon. We are watching HGTV and hubs is pacing. I know the accident is on his mind and he needs to work out the details before it consumes his whole day. We hear sister, I'm still at a three, the nurse offers me a popsicle, I'm comfortable and contractions are sporadic and not hard at all. That would be discouraging, but I know my water broke and they won't send me home. The doctor on call (the one that delivered Drake, actually) tells me to walk around for an hour and see if we can't get things going. We stroll the hallways, giddy and ready. After an hour, we head back to our room to get a new report. Or not....still at a 3. The doctor comes in and suggests some Pitocin to get things going, kind of jump start my body into labor. She says, "We can wait and watch baby for another hour, and then it might be a good idea to start Pitocin." I smile and agree. I am fine with anything at this point, I just want to meet our baby!
With everything going just fine, I tell hubs to call the police and go deal with that while we wait. So he does.

An hour later, the Pitocin drip starts. I'm still very comfortable, Hubs is now content with the police report being filed, and we are ready to go. The Pitocin starts to do it's job. I am contracting more frequently, and they are gradually getting more intense. It's ok, I trained for this! Breathe, breathe, every contraction brings me closer to bringing this baby into the world.

It's nearly 4 o'clock now and with each contraction I have to stop and really concentrate. These are getting intense and they are coming fast. They slow down my Pitocin drip but...oh wow. I am feeling every bit of these. There is a short break between contractions, but not much. With each one, Hubs warns me of the start and holds my hand til he can reassure me that it is coming back down and that it's almost over. I am still texting and updating friends and family occasionally at this point.

All outside communication is cut off. We need all hands on deck to get through each contraction now. It's a little after 5 p.m., I am laying on my side and slightly panicking... These hurt. I have never felt a more intense pain. It takes over my whole body. 5:30... I tell Hubs that I can't do this. A nurse offers to give me some fentanyl to take the edge off. I nod my head yes. Hubs holds my face and tells me, "You CAN do this. Your body was made for this." And just like that, I'm ready. With each contraction, my body tenses. I can hear the nurse telling me not to push. I can hear Hubs telling me to relax and breath. But everything in me is tensing and I don't feel like I can stop it. There's a rush of nurses and finally I hear my doctor asking me if I'm ready to have this baby. (I later find out that they were in the middle of a doctor change. Dr. Booth was off at 6, and Dr. Lange thought "I should head in to work a little early." Then she got a phone call from the nurses saying I was at a 7 and will be ready soon. By the time she got there, I was ready to push. From past babies, I know that I go from 6/7-10 really fast. This time was no different. 15 minutes.)

It's now 6 o'clock. "Rachel, we need you to lay on your back, can you do that?" Do you think I could push on my side like this? "I would say yes, but with the size of your baby, I think it would be best if you could push on your back." Ok. Whatever you say! "There we go. Ok, are you ready to meet your baby girl?"

6:12 p.m. I hear her crying so loud. She is not fully born but man, does she have a set of lungs on her!

6:15 p.m. The pain stops. And there is a sweet, squishy, precious, beautiful baby girl laid on my chest. She is crying and it is the most beautiful noise in the world (as Drake was taken by the NICU nurses and given an oxygen mask right away after he was born). I know her name the minute I meet her and it couldn't be more perfect... Sophia Bliss. Oh how I love her. They help me get situated with skin-to-skin contact and she nurses right away. It is the most perfect start to life with Sophia. I keep wondering when they will take her to clean her up and weigh her and get her foot prints...The nurse assures me that there is absolutely no rush. They will weigh her when I am ready. We stay like this, in our little bubble, for an hour or so. Finally, curiosity gets the best of me, and I need to know how big she is. I mean, look at these cheeks!! Earlier that morning, my OB guessed maybe 7 or 8 pounds. They lay her on the scale and Hubs' eyes are suddenly huge. "She's 9 lbs. 6 oz., Babe! 20.5 inches long." Ohmygoodness. I birthed that.

I had a friend ask me if I got to experience the birth I planned for. And I thought long and hard about that and I can say "yes". The only expectations I had were to go epidural free and to hold my sweet baby at the end of it. And I did that. And I would do it again.

The next two days are hard and beautiful and cherished forever. Hard, because once Drake was able to come visit me and baby sister, he did NOT want to leave. And my hormones were all over the place. He cried when it was time to leave and it broke me. He had been my baby for 3 years. Now, here with this new baby, I felt like I had betrayed him. Beautiful, because obviously. Sophia is gorgeous, and perfectly plump, and people are waiting on me with food and help. It's wonderful. Cherished, because those days I will never get back. Those days of getting to know her, how she prefers to nurse, what her cries mean, staring into her eyes. Those are sweet sweet memories.

Emotionally, I was doing ok. Easily tearing up at things, but definitely finding joy and purpose just fine. Not falling into the black hole that is postpartum depression. Drake keeps me giggling. And the love filling our house is overwhelmingly blissful. One week after coming home from the hospital and sharing her name with everyone, my grandma unexpectedly passes away. Grief feels different than depression and I am weary with grief over this loss. Grief that Sophia will not know her great grandma this side of heaven. Grief that I didn't savor our last visit with her. All the regret...all the sorrow...and yet, this Blissy Babe fills my heart and daily brings me joy. Grandma wouldn't want it any other way. And I know she and Grandpa are watching every moment of Sophie's life and loving on her from above.  

Physical recovery without an epidural during labor is now my preference. I was able to get up and walk around as soon as she was born. My back didn't hurt from a giant needle. I had no anxiety about a spinal headache. My body was bouncing back and I could not have been happier with the way it was recovering. At least for the next week or two...It was easy and good.